


Horrible Doctors

by ozirj



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Clothed Sex, Dr. Jones and Free, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Mention of Nurse Ray, and of course gavins perfect hairy tummy, not rly though, sort of established relationship, theyre comfortable with one another i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-19 23:45:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1488601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozirj/pseuds/ozirj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These boys really don't deserve those PhD's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Horrible Doctors

**Author's Note:**

> For my wonderful and amazing friend Nyx ! Love ya hun and sorry if there's any big fuck up's in the fic.

“Yeah, yeah. Yeah, I know. Look, I’m real sorry I forgot that in there alright. I’ll give ya’ a refund or something.”, Michael’s leaning over his desk. Forehead in his hands and he rubs his eyes with the heel of his palm, his glasses pushed up into his thick hair. 

“No! I could have died on that table, you’re fucking lucky enough I could get the help of a worthy, educated fucking human being that deserves their god damn doctorate!” 

The middle aged woman screaming over the conference speaker of his telephone is making his brain thunk back and forth against both sides of his skull. Her fucking thick Afrikaan accent makes him grind his teeth.

“Just fuckin’ say Ph.D lady, you’re barely pronouncin’ it right. Jesus christ. Well good luck with the new fuckin’ doctor ya’ bitch.”, he slams down onto the hook switch with his whole fist and hurts himself more than the shitty telephone. The dial tone buzzes out from the phone and he lets it ring in his ears for a bit before there’s a thick rap on his office door. 

Michael yells, and Gavin can feel it from the other side of the door, “How many time have I told you to stop fucking knockin’ so hard!”. Gavin does a sort of turn around as he closes the door behind him, keep his face towards the door until Michael gives him some sort of ‘ok’ to actually say he’s alright with him being in the same room together at the moment. 

“Sit down asshole.”, Gav nods sharply and turns around, pulls out the raggedy cushioned chair from under the desk.

“What’s u-”

“You fucked up, we or whatever. More you.” 

“What! How?”, Gavin’s sort of sitting on the edge of his seat now, looking nervous. Looking stupid more than anything, jaw loose with his nose scrunched up.

Michael shakes his head, pats around on the top of his head as he talks, “You dumb idiot! This is the third time in the past half a year we’ve almost killed somebody. This time it was your fault, I told you to take out the gauze and spacer and then stitch her up!” He grabs his glasses and pushes them down onto his nose. 

“Oh no, I left all those ‘knacks in her, huh?”, he looks so disappointed, “Is she okay?” 

“Yeah, fuck, why aren’t we fired yet.”, Michael is pissed, nostrils flaring here and there. Keep’s under the radar. He usually does when they’re at work. Doesn’t want to put a bigger dent in his career. He’s trying not to make eye-contact with Gavin. That’ll be what sets him off and he knows it. 

“Look, I’m real sorry, I know it’s been my fault about three-fourths of the way through-- Michael?”

“Shut up-- just get out for now alright, I have a client at 5:00 and Ray isn’t here today so I gotta work with some new asshole that just finished their training not to lon-”, Michael’s gripping onto the edge of his desk now, doesn’t even know it. Gav pays attention to it, his face sours up when Michaels thumb nail is about to snag on a loose splinter in the wood.

“Micha-”, he’s gunna throw up, “Michael--”

“What! Fucking what?”, grip off the table, slams down flat onto some paperwork.

Gavin takes a deep breath, shaky in relief, squirmy still and he pats his hand on the desk, “Just relax, you’ll figure something out.”

“You’re the worst person to rely on for comfort, you know that?” 

“Yeah, I know--”

“You’re really lame.”, his face softens up. It’s red and he looks like a disheveled cherub. 

Gavin pulls up a smile, lips tight but genuine, “Should I go?”. 

“No, you’re fine. I’m still on lunch anyways.”, Michael takes a deep breath, leans back in his seat, crosses his legs and rubs at his temples. 

Gavin looks around the room, even flashes a look at the trashcan, “But no lunch?”

“Yeah, I was working.” 

Gavin thinks to himself, gunna say something witty about how it’s not lunch then but keep his mouth shut. Michaels still steaming a bit, he’s been working hard, stressed and grinded to the bone. He knows he still has about an hour, looks at the clock over Michaels head, forty-two minutes to be exact. 

“I haven’t got any clients for a bit. Wanna snag somethin’ from the liquor?”, Gavin starts to stand, assumes Michael will want a little something on the job. God, they’re bad people. 

“Nah, I just wanna relax. I’ll take a nap. “, he juts his chin toward the couch up by the window. He looks bad. Like he’s had a hangover for years that he’s just ended up getting used to. He’s not even getting up, just sort of drooping his head, his eyes fluttering shut.

Gavin’s been in the same position for about two minutes now, both hands on the arms of his chair, ass midway out of his seat & then he stands completely. Stays quiet and doesn’t know if Michael is completely asleep now or just ignoring him. He doesn’t push the chair back in, sort of leans over the desk and whispers harshly, “Michael?” 

Michael keeps his eyes closed, hums at him and starts to stand, groggily and Gavin skips around the desk quickly to help him up. He’s got his eyes half lidded now, leaning on Gav as he leads him over to the small therapist like couch.

“Thanks”, Michael mumbles, holds onto a pocket of Gavin’s labcoat. He’s got scrubs on underneath even though he’s not going into surgery any time soon. 

Michael stops before they get to the couch. Just stands and holds onto Gavin. Gav clenches up, hopes he’s not gunna hurt him or something. 

“You’re still lame.” 

“Michael! I hate you.”, Gavin laughs and nudges him, keeps him towards the couch and sits him down. Michael sits, pulls off his coat and let’s it land on the floor. Gavin leans down, picks it up so he can hang it up for him on his way out. 

“Gav--”

Gavin turns, midway to the coat hanger, face slack and dumb as always. 

“--C’mere.”, and Gavin knows now. He takes a step to Michael and then clenches his fist on the coat, turns back around and hangs it before he’s back to Michael. Two big steps and a fist balling at his scrubs get him down on one knee with a thick thud. 

“Ow, Christ!”, Michael’s mouth on his hair and, “--Oh christ.”

“ ‘ll ge’ sm bev’s aft wmrk.”, Gavin can barely make it out and Michael’s words vibrate onto Gavin’s skull. He get’s on both knees, ‘bevs after work are good, sounds real good. He’s pushing his head around now, moving his arms around Michael, scruff against clean shaven skin a couple times before they can smack at each others lips once, twice and six times after. Each time Gavin’s slipping onto Michael a bit more and they push back against the slip of the leather couch. Now it’s sucking at one another. Moving like kids again, inexperienced and sloppy but in a good as it’ll ever get way. Michael huffs away, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and he falls back against the couch.

“Suck me off dude.”

“This is like--”, a second of mental calculation,”--the third time this week Michael.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll get your turn asshole.”, Michael rubs at his cock through his jeans. The nice denim ones, the only one’s he’s allowed to wear to work. He listens to Gavin moan about always suckin’ cock and other shit like that and Michael ignores it because no one’s making him do it if he doesn’t want to. Gavin groans once more as he tugs at the button of Michael’s jeans. It pops and he slides down the zipper with one finger. They both don’t care at this point about locked doors and Gavin pushed down the brim of Michael’s just enough so his chin won’t rash from scratching at any rough fabric. He pushes away any of his shirt that was tucked into his pants, Michael’s soft stomach showing, right up to his belly button. Michael’s half hard, just enough to make a thick outline through his boxers and Gavin tucks his hand under them, pulls down the boxers to right under his dick. Still not used to the idea of another grown man’s balls. 

Gavin always has a second of caution before he ever goes down, will hold Michael’s dick in his hand and stare like he’s questioning the idea of life in it’s total and complete being. 

“Stop it dickhead.”, Michael can feel his hard stare and it’s gunna make his cock shrivel up. 

He chuckles a bit this time because he notices Michael’s trimmed himself down nicely, still natural though, nothing shaped and it sort of frames his dick perfectly. That’s what encouraged Gavin enough to start to tug, he spits onto the head of Michael’s cock unceremoniously. Uses the thin stream of spit to help the chafe. Gavin is horrible at this, absolutely horrible and it isn’t his fault. His gag reflexes, all their fault and Michael has adapted to blow jobs that are only made up of mostly jerking off and having Gavin not actually put anything fully in his mouth. So that’s how it is, and that’s how he cums. With Gavin sucking horribly at the head of his dick for five minutes that makes Michael feel sort of raw. Gav keep shaky uneven strokes to his dick for the rest of it.

Michael just grunts once, squeezes and eye shut and hold back from laughing horribly when Gavin squeaks, “Uhg! It got in my hair!” 

One teardrop of cum hits his hairline, and he’s stressing over wiping Michael and his hand clean. Michael snickers, lifts his head and smooths his hand through Gavin’s hair. Gavin groans pulls his head away from Michael and stands, watches Michael tuck himself back in and pull up his pants. He grabs his own dick through his scrubs, pushes down the tent he’s sporting and it makes him look innocent and awkward more than anything. 

“Here, I’ll keep my promise.”, Michael sits back up, leans on one hand and tempts Gavin forward with the other. He grabs Gav by his ass, slips the hand into his coat and under his shirt. Gav moves his hand away from his dick, scurries it onto Michael’s shoulder and scoots closer. 

“I’m just gunna jerk ya’ off, ‘m to tired for some mouth shit.”, Michael sighs and just pulls Gavin down to his skivvies. Gavin yelps, jumps a tad and curses under his breath. The elastic band of his shorts stay right over his knees. He spread his legs a bit more and Michael pushes all three of Gavin’s shirts up, makes him tuck them into the collar of one. He looks up at Gavin as he tugs his briefs down, has them rest under his butt. His cock springs out, taps the underside of Michael’s chin and he chuckles, leans down and kisses Gavin’s furred up stomach, gives it a suck and then feathers over the crown of his dick with his mouth. He sits up straight now, leans on Gav’s thigh with a hand and he licks his fingers and palm, carefully takes his cock and gives it an upstroke. He kisses Gavin’s dick three more times throughout the whole dreadfully slow handjob that get’s Gavin off so well. Gavin watches Michael the whole time, who mostly pushes his face into Gav’s tummy, hums all over it. He gives out shaky breaths when Michael will do a round about of rubs over his head and moans when Michael whispers out his name.

Michael looks up, says drowsily,“C’mon, cum dude--”. He can’t even finish his sentence when Gavin comes all over his mouth, grunts softly and leans over him. Gavin holds onto his back for support and the weight basically just shoves his face deeper into Gavin’s mess. Michael sputters and pushes his dead-weight away.

“You fucking shithead! God--”, he wipes off his face, uses Gavin’s coat to wipe at his mouth like he ate something to spicy. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry…”, Gavin huffs while Michael pulls up his briefs and pants. Slaps his thigh for him to move away. Gavin does, trips over his own feet and catches himself on the edge of Michael’s desk. Michael flops down onto the couch, grins up Gavin.

“Thanks bud”, Gavin looks at the clock, “Shit, I’ve gotta go, I’m gunna-- I’ll shoot you a text or something when my shifts over, alright?” 

“Mhm.”, he replies muffled and tired, “Wait, wait.”

Gavin get his hand off the doorknob, walks back over to the couch when Michael flaps his hand to motion him over and he crouches down. Michael licks his thumb, rubs it on Gavin’s temple and scratches in his hair. 

“Cum was crustin’.”

“Gross! Gross, uhg.”, Michael pushes him away once more and they share a look before Gain walks out, makes sure Michael closes his eyes to finally rest and he closes the door a little harder than he intended to.


End file.
